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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28368021">The Man Comes Around</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaoCarolina/pseuds/NaoCarolina'>NaoCarolina</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Dubious Consent, F/M, Gentle Sex, Lyrium Addiction, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Torture, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:09:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,461</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28368021</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaoCarolina/pseuds/NaoCarolina</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Samson finally captures the Inquisitor in a snowy climb. During the time spent as his captive, a fascination with the Herald that fast grows into an obsession. In return, the Inquisitor will have to wrestle with an empathy that grows into desire.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Raleigh Samson/Female Trevelyan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is all thanks to the inspo given to me by Attackamazon’s Samson/Trev piece ‘The Chains that Bind’ - one of my favourite fics on this site. If you like this then you’ll love theirs as well! Samson is such an interesting character and deserves more airtime.</p>
<p>There’s quite the smutty ending if you stick to it!  </p>
<p>Sorry for spelling/grammar issues and my spellcheck often puts Trevalyan rather than Trevelyan so expect a few of those dotted<br/>around too. </p>
<p>Also, I switch between narrative accounts, outlined usually by asterisk (***) jumping between Samson and Trevelyan.</p>
<p>Enjoy, you filthy animals!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>‘You know... not eating is going to do nothing for your mood.’<br/>
Rayleigh Samson sat in a high backed chair, one leg swung over the other, resting an elbow on the arm nonchalantly. He was shirtless, nude from the waist up. His muscles tensed and flexed under skin stretched too tightly across his chest. He was a strange looking man, angular, with a long nose and a sharp jaw. What remained of his thinning black hair was slicked back. His eyes were terribly bloodshot, and dark circles hung under these like storm clouds below a red sky. He looked waxy and pale, drawn and sickly. When he smiled his pointed grey teeth showed beneath pale lips. He was already wolf-like, and fast losing his human qualities as the addiction consumed him.<br/>
‘You’ll need your strength. Especially when we start moving tomorrow. I’m not carrying you to Therinfal.’<br/>
The young woman in front of him kept her gaze grounded. She didn’t shift, didn’t move. The chains that wound their way across the stone floor didn’t make a sound.<br/>
‘C’mon Daisy. Talk to me.’ He purred, letting his leg fall and sitting forward. ‘I’ve been very good to you. My Master wanted you dead, and I’ve convinced him you’re worth preserving.’ He let his eyes rove around her body, focusing for a second on her silvery hair that hung over her face. ‘I’ve been patient.’<br/>
After a few seconds of silence, she slowly raised her head, her eyes moved up to meet his. He grinned, the moment of anticipation finally upon him. ‘There...’<br/>
‘Don’t call me Daisy.’ She said flatly. Her voice was harsh and croaky from the lack of use. Samson barked out a loud cackle that turned into a hacking cough. He recovered after a few moments, still scoffing to himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.<br/>
‘I knew when the time came for you to say something.. it was gonna be good.’<br/>
He watched her regard him with utter contempt and smirked. Getting up from his seat, he stepped over to her and stopped close enough to touch her. He looked down into her eyes.<br/>
‘Maker, that face!’ And he took her jaw in his hand. She let him. She didn’t wrench herself away, or bite. He had her. It was over. Her only escape was going to be at the hands of Corypheus in death, and now even that had been stolen from her.<br/>
‘You’re being so good. First talking, now letting me handle you without any fuss.’  Gently passing his thumb over her bruised cheek, he then shoved her head roughly into the crotch of his leathers. She yelled out in anger and tried to pull away from him, but Samson clenched a handful of her hair and gripped her hard. She gasped audibly, screwing her face up in pain. He waited until she stopped struggling and then pushed her head away, chuckling. ‘Getting better, Daisy.’<br/>
‘Fuck... you...’ she spluttered. Samson turned, still smiling and slapped her hard with his open palm across the face, sending her sideways into the ground. She stayed there, her breathing laboured. The man turned on the spot and groaned frustratedly, running both his hands through his dark hair. The groan extended to such a pitch that it echoed throughout the stone chambers beyond. He turned and bent down, leering at her maniacally: ‘I really don’t want to do this,’ he said, eyeing her exposed thigh. He could almost feel her warm, damp skin, ‘But you force me...’<br/>
The inquisitor turned her head, her face against the stone. ‘You don’t?’ She said, her voice just a whisper.<br/>
‘What?’ He asked, taken aback by her meek response, ‘what did you say?’<br/>
She twisted over onto her back and sat up slightly. A red mark had appeared on her left cheek.<br/>
‘You don’t?’ She repeated, still frowning but somehow also managing to look placid - which unnerved him. ‘You don’t want to hurt me?’ She said again. He was suddenly very aware that she was laying before him, her bare legs bent, just begging to be touched. He frowned slightly, trying to smile but it faltered.<br/>
‘Well...’ he murmured and then shook his head slowly. He noticed her eyes flicker down to her own legs that stretched between them.<br/>
‘Then don’t.’ She breathed. Samson squinted slightly, he wasn’t sure how to respond. He stretched his pale hand out and very gently touched her thigh. He couldn’t stop himself from trembling. She saw it too. He thought he saw the faint shadow of a smirk. And then, ‘what does it feel like?’<br/>
Samson’s eyes widened, his mouth open, and he stared ahead at her. He felt himself stir. He drew a deep breath and moved his hand across her skin which was smooth but peppered with bruises.<br/>
‘Soft.’ He rasped. He slowly moved up to meet the little cloth vest that provided her only coverage. Finally, he thought, she’s becoming the obedient thing I’ve craved, she was even playing along for me. Playing.... he looked up at her quickly, and saw a little glint in her eye, and a smile that he knew shouldn’t be there. He went to react - but too late, she had lifted her leg and kicked him in the jaw with such force he was dazed and blinking the stars from his eyes. He roared like a wounded beast and grabbed her leg roughly, pulling her towards him. He climbed on top of her, pinning her with his knees and wrapped his hands around her neck. She tried to bring her chained arms up to stop him but they were trapped under Samson’s weight. He throttled her for some moments, snarling at her, watching her turn blue, her eyes bulging. <br/>
‘You... fucking... bitch...’  as her eyes started to roll back, he finally let go. He thought it would excite him, make him hard, but it didn’t. Like the previous torture, it just made him more frustrated.<br/>
She gasped and spluttered loudly, her breath rattling in her throat as she desperately tried to suck in the air around her. He got off of her and stood up, kicking her in the side for good measure. She didn’t cry out, in fact to Samson’s shock, she started to laugh as she clutched at herself.<br/>
‘Fuck me...’ he growled in disbelief. ‘I warned you, Daisy.’ He stalked over to the wall at the side, rubbing his jaw as he went. ‘I warned you that if you didn’t behave, I would have to get nasty with you again.’ He found the lever jutting out from the stone in the semi-darkness of the dungeon and pulled it downwards. The chains that connected to the shackles around her wrists began to retreat into the ceiling. She was immediately pulled upwards by her arms, off of her feet, and then swung from the bindings a good height from the ground. He watched her try to stifle her cries of pain. She was in agony. He wanted to punish her, to force her... to do something.<br/>
He moved back over to her. She had hardly time to recover from the strangulation, he could see she was struggling to breathe.<br/>
‘Pl-please...’ she gasped, her face contorting. He watched her lips turn purple with the effort.<br/>
‘Please what?’ He said, grinning, grabbing one of her feet. ‘Help you? I don’t think so... you’ll just fucking kick me again.’ He pushed her foot away, making her swing backwards.<br/>
‘N-no...’ she was starting to pass out. ‘S-sorry...’<br/>
Samson showed his teeth, ‘was that an apology?’<br/>
She nodded and she started to quake violently. Was she fitting? He moved back to the wall and released the mechanism. The chains loosened and she crumpled onto the floor in a heap.<br/>
‘Why don’t you ever learn...’ he spat at her.<br/>
Then there came a knock at the cell door, he growled in annoyance, ‘I’ll be there in a minute!’ The knock came and again, louder this time. ‘Fuck!’ He strode over to the large door and opened it, slipping through it and out of sight...</p>
<p>The inquisitor lay motionless for a while. She shouldn’t have enraged him, but it was almost worth it. Her whole body ached but it was nothing compared to the dread she felt for a future that was out of her hands. Why didn’t he just finish her off? She had the courage to die, but she wanted it to be quick. The natural human instinct was to preserve, and it was so strong. Somehow torture made her less willing accept it. Strange how the mind works. For Samson it had become an another addiction. So excited he had been to capture the inquisitor, when he had found her, she knew he had cried out in elation like a madman. Every day since he had spent at least a few hours with her, trying to break her. The beating she preferred to the chit chat. Up until that day she hadn’t said a word save the lurid curses that escaped her when he caused her pain. She knew it angered him. He wanted to hear her voice.</p>
<p>She had been caught in the Emprise de Lion, about a week previously, although she thought it could have been longer now. It was very hard to judge the day and night in the dungeon, so little light entered. If she moved as far as her chains would allow and looked up into the corner of the room, she could just make out a tiny chink of sun when it shone bright enough.<br/>
Trevelyan’s mission in that snow covered city had been one of the heart. Leliana’s scouts had returned with news that the townspeople had started to go missing. Rumour was they were being kidnapped by Red Templars in the night, but their fates were a mystery. It had been a question mark until she had seen it for herself, with her own eyes: people caged like animals and those that weren’t dying of thirst and hunger were being made to do hard  labour. There were those that they forced the red lyrium onto, turning them into abominations, losing the versions of themselves that they would never recover again. She knew she had to save them, as many as she could. It would likely be a difficult mission, but it had to be done. It had all been going so well, but then an ambush, and an arrow, an arrow shot by Samson himself. He had wanted to take the shot. He had told her in detail, during one of his daily monologues:<br/>
‘I had been given word two days before about your arrival in the town,’ Samson had begun, sitting down in his chair as though about to tell the inquisitor a bed time story - but her position had not been one of comfort while she listened. She had watched him suspended from her chains that fed into the ceiling. ‘Everyone there spoke of the inquisitor, the saviour, come to be a hero... of course, not everyone believes in your cause, and I was sure that there would be some who would be persuaded into telling me your plan. You’ll be pleased to hear that no one came willingly. No... that young lad had screamed bloody murder, but when it came to the life or death of his sweetheart, well... that always loosens lips.’ She had tried to block his voice out. She had tried so hard.<br/>
‘I knew if we met you in the field, it was likely we would take many causalities, you and your companions being so good at decimating my men...’ he had snarled the last words menacingly. She puffed, and smiled slightly, he ignored it, ‘so... set a trap. Lure you out on your own. You see, inquisitor... alone, you’re nothing.’ He twisted in his seat and sat forward, she closed her eyes to him, but she knew behind her lids he was looking at her body.<br/>
‘I told them I wanted to do it, I wanted to feel what it was like to shoot the Herald.’ Samson’s eyes were wider than ever. He had swallowed hard. ‘To kill the hero.’<br/>
But she hadn’t died. Samson hadn’t meant to kill her either, he had purposefully aimed for her shoulder. The arrow had flown from their cover and hit her hard in the back, erupting from her chest. She had struggled in the semi-darkness, through the trees, leaving behind herself a long dark red river in the snow. She had lost so much blood, and eventually expired against a tall tree. When she woke up in the dungeon, chained and stripped of her armour, the first face she saw was Samson’s. Glittering, staring eyes, wetting his lips with his serpent-like tongue. Her captor’s obsession had already ignited.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day they left at first light. She would ride on Samson’s steed as per his orders. He would take pleasure in smelling her hair as they made the journey to Therinfal. </p>
<p>‘It’s not so bad, is it?’ He whispered into her ear as they left the keep and entered the woods beyond. After some time he felt her relax in front of him, and possibly due to pure exhaustion, she let her head tilt back and rest against his shoulder. Every now and then he would turn his head and press his nose into her silky hair. Breathing her in was like taking a shot of pure red lyrium. </p>
<p>****<br/>Trevelyan woke and quickly sat upright, the outdoor air reminding her of a chance at freedom. It was then she realised that she lay chained in the centre of a group of Templars and that dream soon melted. What was more concerning to her was how she felt. Her wound was festering and unspeakably painful. She placed the back of her hand against her sweaty forehead: fever. Not good.<br/>‘I need to bathe.’ She said loudly, her voice catching the attention of the men around her who all stopped their chatting and looked over their shoulders.  There were about seven of them all sitting around a fire that had just been erected. The inquisitor sat a little further back on the ground where she had been placed, still in her manacles. ‘I need to bathe.’ She repeated, watching the soldiers who seemed astounded that she spoke, ‘I need to wash this wound or I’ll die.’ A pause and then laughter from the gang. She waited patiently for them to finish their collective guffawing and then once she had silence again, she spoke slowly and clearly, ‘I need to bathe.’  <br/>She didn’t know where Samson was, she had fallen asleep while he rode them through the Frostback Basin to Therinfal. She cursed herself for falling asleep on his horse with him. He probably took pleasure in that, pretending to himself that she was some fair maiden he was rescuing. <br/>‘Shut it.’ One of the Red Templars growled at her. ‘Or we’ll feed you to the dogs.’ Another had added. The inquisitor managed to shift her sleeve which fell off her shoulder. There, plain to see, was the arrow wound that Samson had given her. She couldn’t see it for herself, but she knew it wasn’t healing, she knew it was the reason she felt so weak. It must have looked rather putrid because one of the soldiers stood up and said ‘Someone fetch the General.’ A small argument broke out amongst the men, whether they should disturb Samson during his council, whether the inquisitor was trying to trick them, whether she really was going to die. ‘If the General returns to find she’s dead...’ one argued, ‘Well, she’s not going to fucking die any time soon, is she?’ The other one spat back at him.<br/>‘I’m not going in there... he speaks with the Elder One...’ <br/>‘How’s he doing that then, with a fucking crystal ball?’<br/>‘I’ll tell him you said that...’<br/>‘I’ll tell him you killed the prisoner.’<br/>They needn’t have bothered because just as the row reached peak frustration and the inquisitor has started to enjoy it somewhat, Samson returned. They heard his armour clanking from afar, well before he emerged through the trees. <br/>‘What’s going on here?’ He snarled, looking at the Templars standing close to each other in a huddle. <br/>They exchanged looks before the more neurotic of the gang spoke to him. ‘The prisoner has asked to bathe, Ser. Her wound looks infected.’ <br/>Samson leant to the side, spotting the inquisitor through the legs of the group. They parted so he could reach her. She held her breath for a moment as he approached and stood far too close to her.<br/>‘Are you winding everyone up?’ He grinned menacingly. She didn’t look up but tilted her head to the side, exposing the flesh on her shoulder. Samson tucked her hair behind her and with his hand encouraged her to bend even more to observe the arrow wound. He grimaced slightly, clicking his tongue. ‘Poor Daisy.’ He whispered under his breath so that only she could hear. He bent down in front of her. She reluctantly met his gaze.<br/>‘I’m afraid the only water around here is the river, Daisy.’<br/>‘I know.’<br/>‘Have you lost it? It’ll be fucking cold...’<br/>She nodded. ‘I think I’ll risk it. I don’t much fancy dying from this. I don’t want to give you the satisfaction.’<br/>He smiled wider. ‘No... that wouldn’t fit in with your fucking story would it?’<br/>Samson stood and turned to the soldiers.<br/>‘The prisoner has decided she wants to freeze. There’s a river a short way South of here. I’ve just been past it.’ He announced to the soldiers. ‘I’ll take two archers.’ <br/>He soon had her back on his horse and they rode the short distance to the river. Once there he helped her down from the saddle. <br/>‘Now, I know I don’t need to say this but...  don’t try anything. If you stray too far or you try to escape-‘ he pointed at the two men with bows that had accompanied them there, ‘those two will put you full of holes... and you’ll sink.’ He smirked. She didn’t flicker. He took out a key and unlocked her shackles, and she turned from them towards the water. She stopped just before it.<br/>‘Am I not to have any privacy?’ She called over her shoulder. <br/>Samson crossed his arms and smiled. ‘Can’t trust you, Daisy. I can ask them to close their eyes if you wish?’ <br/>She shot him a venomous look. Her back to them, she removed the woollen cloak, her vests, and the tattered leathers they had afforded her, and placed them carefully on the ground before starting to wade into the river. It was indeed freezing, but she had been hot up until then from the fever.<br/>Samson nodded at the soldiers who both turned their backs to the sight, but he kept watch. He saw her honey-coloured body disappearing into the water. His nostrils flared as he viewed her long legs and round behind, up to her waist, her back, and the one imperfection: the darkened entry wound in her shoulder. Otherwise all perfect, he thought... how could she be so perfect.</p>
<p>****</p>
<p>Trevelyan slid down the little bank and began to wade in, the river only came up to her hips, but she sank into it, it was icy cold, but bracing. She bit her tongue to stop any gasps from escaping her and slowly, everything went numb - she felt incredible for a few seconds. She dipped down under the surface and stayed there for as long as her lungs would allow, until her vision started become blurry, with bursts of light behind her eyes.</p>
<p>****</p>
<p>Samson saw her disappear under the slowly lapping ripples, and tensed all over. She was invisible there. He started to walk towards the water’s edge, eyes flicking across to the archers that stood down the river a little. Once he reached the bank, he stared hard at the point at which she had ducked under. The blackness held no clue to her whereabouts. He raised his hand, ready to shout to the soldiers, and then she emerged again. </p>
<p>****</p>
<p>She crested and flipped her hair back, wiping the water from her eyes and pinching her nose. Trevalyan took in a deep restorative breath and touched her wound instinctively, starting to carefully clean it. She suddenly became aware of someone on the bank, standing quite close. She turned in the water and looked up at Samson standing there - his face was quite a sight, twisted in fear and anger. She kept her own emotionless, her hand still across her shoulder.</p>
<p>****</p>
<p>He let out a shuddering sigh of relief, but everything still tensed. Why? The way she looked at him. Like a beautiful white halla in the forest. A halla hunted. He could view her properly from here. She kept her eyes locked onto his and didn’t break once. He became aware of her breasts, her nipples erect and gooseflesh covering. She kept looking at him, while she washed her wound. </p>
<p>****<br/>‘Don’t stare, General.’ She said finally. That had broken his trance. He gave himself a little shake. <br/>‘Hurry up.’ He growled. <br/>‘I’ll need some other things for this.’ She said, squinting up at him.<br/>‘I’ll need elfroot and...’ <br/>‘Just get out.’ Samson turned and stalked back to his horse, pulling a heavy blanket from the saddle. <br/>She didn’t immediately obey him, and continued for a few moments to clean her wound, reaching back over her shoulder as best she could. She then stood up out of the water and climbed up the bank. Picking up her clothing, she dabbed one of her vests firstly on her wound. She walked over to Samson who threw the blanket at her before she reached him and then climbed back up on his horse. She couldn’t help but smile to herself as she dried her body. She wasn’t quite sure what had put him in such a sudden bad mood, perhaps he had thought for a moment he had lost her. Maybe it was seeing her entirely nude that frustrated him so. She noticed that he did not shackle her again.<br/>She slipped her vest over her head and pulled on the leathers, finally she wrapped herself as best she could in her cloak, also placing the blanket over her shoulders. She took Samson’s hand, which had been given begrudgingly and climbed up onto his horse.</p>
<p>Once back at the camp, Trevelyan had sat close to the fire and no one much bothered her. Once her tent had been erected for the night, one she noted was surrounded by the others, she had retreated there. To her surprise when she entered, someone had left a plate of roots and leaves, with a pestle and mortar, or rather, a stone with a bowl. She stripped off and by the dimming light of the fire outside, she used the items she had been given to make a rudimentary healing salve. It was simple enough to apply it to her front but her back was proving difficult. She lay down instead and felt the stinging surge fill her up. <br/>‘Inquisitor...’ she heard a rough voice say from outside the tent. <br/>‘Yes?’ She called back quickly, in the hope that they would know she was there and would not enter to make sure. <br/>‘Have you used the ingredients?’<br/>She recognised the voice as Samson’s. She sat up and crawled on her hands and knees to the tent’s opening. Pulling the flap open a small way, she stuck her head out and looked up at him. He was out of his armour, in black leathers. He looked more drawn than usual. Possibly he had missed his lyrium intake that day. She took a moment to study the man’s face. He was so angular, quite lupine. His nose was long and sharp and echoed his jaw. A few strands of black hair hung over his tawny coloured eyes. <br/>‘I have... Do you have any gauze or something I can use for a bandage?’ <br/>Trevelyan watched him grit his teeth. <br/>‘No.’<br/>She couldn’t help but smile, he seemed to be aggravated that he had helped her at all that day, and now she had the audacity to ask for something more.<br/>‘No problem...’ she said, ‘well, thank you.’<br/>He nodded and started to walk away. <br/>‘General!’ She called, her heart beating a little harder. He stopped and looked to his side. ‘I can’t... I can’t reach my back.’ She watched his face screw up in annoyance. ‘I have two wounds you see, the arrow, it went-‘ Samson turned around and snarled at her, ‘I’m well aware of how arrows work, girl.’ <br/>‘Could you send someone to help?’ The conflict behind his eyes was apparent, he switched very quickly. He walked back to her and whispered, venom spitting. ‘No, of course I fucking can’t!’<br/>She recoiled slightly, frowning at him, and then realisation sank in, and she smiled wide, wider than she had done before. ‘You collected the roots for me.’ </p>
<p>****</p>
<p>‘No... I...’ Samson shook his head and run his hand through his hair. ‘Yes.’ He admitted, closing his eyes tightly. His looked back down at her face half in shadow, but could see her there, smiling. <br/>‘It was no effort on my part, those ingredients are abundant around here.’ But it was too late for her, she even giggled. Giggled. He felt a blush rise in him, what a strange feeling, one he had not felt for so long. It was an oddly human reaction. It eclipsed almost entirely the pang for the red that he had felt since leaving the Emprise de Lion. But only momentarily. He wondered what else would make him feel so...<br/>‘General...’ she had said, her tone bringing him back into the moment. He eyed her and his stomach knotted. She had stopped smiling. <br/>‘Will you help me?’ He knew it was coming, but he hadn’t thought of his response. He swallowed hard. Yes, yes, yes...<br/>What had happened to him, since the lake? Had it been the moment when he thought he had lost her, where his heart had been turned to stone and dropped right through him? It wasn’t because he feared his Master’s wrath if she escaped, in fact, Corypheus had been far from his mind in that moment. Was it the thought of not having her that made him want to destroy everything, destroy her if he couldn’t possess her? How had she made him feel that way? He suddenly thought of her coming back to him without shackles, the way her hips moved, her wet hair...<br/>‘I have other things to attend to...’ he said gruffly, but the inquisitor had reached out and caught his hand. He gritted his teeth again.<br/>‘Please.’ She whispered.<br/>His heart tugged painfully. He debated whether to slap her. The was a second where he thought he should. Beat her, to prove he hated her. He would see her bloody again. Or would he? <br/>For a moment he just stood there, feeling her fingers.<br/>‘Quickly, then.’ He looked about before ducking into her tent. He knew she would be nude again, but there was little preparation for it. His eyes snaked all over her as she crawled into the centre. She turned and handed him the bowl filled with a dark green substance, twisted and sat cross legged in front of him. He kneeled and tentatively dabbed the balm onto the wound that was his doing. She flinched slightly and he felt the blood pump in his ears. He looked at her smooth back, the bruises. Shame and lust were a strange and heady mixture, but sank into one another like old lovers. She scooped her hair to the side and exposed her neck. Bruises there as well, from where he had strangled her. <br/>‘It looks bad... I’m... sorry that it got to this point.’ He muttered.<br/>‘You should be sorry for shooting me in the first place.’ He couldn’t see her face but he could tell she spoke seriously.<br/>‘But I don’t regret that.’ <br/>‘Of course not. You liked it.’<br/>‘I realise now that I preferred you mute. Just be quiet...’<br/>He pressed a little harder and a little moan escaped her. He was suddenly solid against his breeches. All the hours he had spent with her helpless, bound, or when he had been torturing her, they had nothing on this. He couldn’t understand that, but it was true. He didn’t want to understand it.<br/>‘All right...’ he muttered putting the bowl down on the blankets. She turned her head but didn’t smile. <br/>‘Thank you.’ She whispered. Twisting herself round, she lay back slightly and they stared at each other. His breath had become somewhat laboured. He felt light-headed.<br/>‘I think I understand now.’ He thought he heard her say. Perhaps it was the lyrium but he felt like a possessed being, like he was almost having an out of body experience. Everything echoed in his head. <br/>‘Samson?’ She said his name and the world imploded. </p>
<p>****</p>
<p>Trevalyan simply lay there, not wanting to increase his inward distress, she needed him to stay. She said his name and his breath slowed.  She couldn’t help but enjoy the fact that seeing her like this was so difficult for him. </p>
<p>****</p>
<p>Samson heard the roar of that desire all around him. The sound that pressed so hard. He watched her melt into smoke. Everything was dull haze. He felt sick. He ought to pass out but he didn’t. In his mind, Samson watched her sit up on her knees and bring her head in closer to his. She kissed his open mouth, his bottom lip.<br/>‘Why...’ he managed to breathe.<br/>‘You want me...’ she put her head back, and Samson could do nothing but nod, ‘to want you...’ <br/>He bent forward, kissing her back and felt her leg, gripping her hungrily. She was right. That was it. That heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach, that hunger which would not be slaked by her cries of pain, her obedient silence, or her palpable hatred for him. He didn’t want that. He wanted her to want him. Only him. What a power she would wield if she had truly discovered it.<br/>He let her go and sat back, out of her reach. He saw her as a harpy. She looked spiky somehow.<br/>‘I know what you’re trying to do, Daisy...’ his lip curled. A flicker of surprise danced across her face. </p>
<p>*****</p>
<p>Trevelyan watched with some trepidation as Samson appeared to completely zone out. The lights in his eyes dimmed and his mouth slackened. She wondered whether he was having some sort of break down or a stroke. Perhaps it was linked to the lyrium. He started moving his mouth, and then, he spoke. It was almost as if he had been hallucinating an entire interaction between them.<br/>‘Do you take me for a fool?’ <br/>‘What?’ She squinted at him. <br/>‘You thought you could get ‘round me.’<br/>She kept silent and started to pull one of the blankets up and over herself, scowling at him warily. Suddenly, Samson leant forward and grabbed her by the throat. She let out a strangled yelp of surprise. The man squeezed hard. She felt herself instantly run out of breath. With her hand desperately patting the ground beside her, she eventually found the rock she had used to make the healing balm and gripped it with intent. She brought it up with a sweeping motion and managed to whack him across the temple. Samson didn’t speak but let out a sigh as he fell sideways. </p>
<p>****</p>
<p>Trevelyan raised the rock again. She stared at the man half passed-out on the ground before her. His eyes flickered wildly, a little blood oozed from his head. As she watched, he seemed to come to himself. His eyes settled on her. He didn’t move. <br/>‘What... what?’ He croaked, and then he saw her hand in the air above him. He seemed to know what was coming. Perhaps it was his delirium or after effects of his hallucinating, but he appeared to relax a little. His breath left him. There was a sort of acceptance. She could end it here. She could smash his skull in and attempt an escape from the camp. Her mind raced. In the silence of the tent, with his face full of the knowledge of his death, she faltered. </p>
<p>She had taken out so many red templars, seen them fall or explode or die with anguished yells, and if the opportunity to take Samson’s life had reared its head previously, she would have taken it, without hesitation. But now, she took pity on him. He was caught in the thrall of the red. In the thrall of Corypheus. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t take the opportunity.</p>
<p>She lowered the stone.</p>
<p>****</p>
<p>Samson shifted with effort and pulled himself to a crawling position. His head throbbed. What had just happened? He had dreamt, a waking dream. </p>
<p>His eyes wide, he cast his sight upon the girl one last time. Where embarrassment laid heavy, it quickly turned once more to embittered rage. He backed out of the tent and got up, walking back to the soldiers, on the way he kicked a helmet on the ground, sending it flying through the air. He cursed loudly.</p>
<p>****</p>
<p>Trevelyan lay there for a while, watching the tent flap where Samson had disappeared. She needed to be more careful. He was unstable. </p>
<p>She twisted over and wrapped herself in the single blanket. It scratched at her skin. <br/>Tomorrow they would reach Therinfal and she could expect to go back into a dungeon for the time being. For now, she breathed in the air of the outside world, the cooling, numbing feeling of the balm making her drift easily into sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sorry for the long chapters. I could have chopped them up a little! Anyway, hope you have enjoyed it!</p><p>Thanks for reading.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day she emerged from the tent and was immediately shackled by one of the men. This particular one was little more than an abomination and was rough with her. She had looked up to see a face and all she saw was red crystallised sores encrusted into a helmet that would never again be removed. Melded into the skin of the man. He had grunted at her, he had made such an unusual noise, like a stuck boar.<br/>
She didn’t see Samson that morning, nor did she ride with him for the remainder of the journey. She was thrown into the back of the cart that came with them, squashed alongside various sacks containing ores, with a guard following on behind her on horseback. It didn’t matter to her really how she travelled, but a strange feeling of foreboding had started to grow inside her. Without Samson’s protection, perhaps she would be put to death after all. She had just got used to the idea of living.<br/>
Samson’s guard did not stop to make another camp but continued on for many hours. By the time they reached Therinfal Redoubt it had started to get dark. Trevalyan had slept most of the day and was only awoken by the cart jolting as it rumbled over the stone bridge which lead into the keep. She conjured up her courage for what lie ahead.<br/>
The Templar that had followed her on horseback jumped down and went to her, she put her arm out, expecting him to give her his hand to help her down, but instead he scooped her legs up and dropped her on the ground. She landed and stumbled slightly, cursing at the soldier.<br/>
While the commotion of the unpacking began, she got in the way a couple of times before another guard grabbed her by the shoulder, making her wince with pain, and led her towards the castle entrance.<br/>
Therinfal was truly a fortress. She was led through a maze of passages, on her way she saw a beautiful stone corridor with a carved wooden ceiling and was then led across the great hall, up some stairs, and then up again. Up was good she thought, as they climbed, at least it didn’t mean she was heading to any dungeon. She was starting to get light headed, and had to pause on the steps. The guard pushed her and she turned around, ‘give me a second!’ she hissed at him, but he simply picked her up and put her over his shoulder.<br/>
‘So unnecessary...’ she muttered to herself as she got used to her new view: the Templar’s back.<br/>
They finally reached their destination and she heard the guard clinking a key against a lock. As they moved into the room, she was thrown forwards but to her surprise, her landing was soft. She sat bolt upright on a huge bed in a chamber that was rather palatial. There were furs on the floor, and the drapes across the windows were of red velveteen and golden silk. In the centre of the room opposite her was an enormous fire grate which currently sat empty.<br/>
‘Hang on!’ She shouted as the guard made to exit. She hopped down off the bed and followed him. ‘What’s going on?’ He turned to her and growled like a rabid dog. She screwed up her face in disgust. Another half-being. There was little use trying to ask questions. She stepped backwards, not turning her back, but the guard seemed to have remembered something else. There was a hefty metal hook that stuck out from the ceiling, possibly where a chandelier might have hung once. He went to an ornate chest by the bed, the inquisitor jumped back to ensure he didn’t get too close, and he pulled from it a long chain. She sighed.<br/>
‘It’s really not...’ but she was cut off by another loud growl as the Templar gestured for her to put out her shackles. ‘All right...’<br/>
He connected the chain to the bindings and sure enough, the chain to the hook above her. At least he gave her enough slack to sit or lie comfortably on the bed.<br/>
‘I need some food...’ she said, but the thing had already slammed the door and locked it behind him.<br/>
She looked around the room again. It was as grand as her own bed chamber back at Skyhold. She slipped off the bed and walked to the length that he chain allowed, stretching to look out of the window, but couldn’t see anything but the top of the ramparts. There was also desk by the window with papers and books piled, but again, she was unable to get anywhere near it.</p><p>****</p><p>Hours later, someone entered the room. The sound of the door opening woke her up from yet another deep sleep. She felt even more restored.<br/>
‘Well... Suits you here... You are a little princess, aren’t you?’ A voice said. She sat up and gazed upon Samson who was taking off his armour while watching her from the corner of the room.<br/>
‘Yes,’ she felt undeniably relieved that he had appeared at last, ‘it’s just like a fairytale. I don’t remember anything about the princess being chained to the bed but...’<br/>
‘No? I must have been reading different stories.’<br/>
‘Or making them up in your head.’<br/>
He chuckled huskily, ‘that’s probably it.’<br/>
‘You should write some of them down. You could have a best seller on your hands.’<br/>
‘What sort of man would read stories like those?’ He grinned and leaned forward, removing his boots.<br/>
She hesitated. Samson seemed somewhat different to the day before. Their conversation was almost comfortable. She couldn’t keep her mind from wondering whether he was on the verge of switching. She half expected him to start fading out again, and yet he seemed alert.<br/>
‘They exist. I’m sure.’<br/>
Samson watched her watch him. They were locked into a battle of wills, trying to judge each other, until he turned around again. She  found herself wanting, hoping she was feeling a heat in return. Something had definitely changed at least, for her. She no longer had that hatred for him. It was confusing. When did it change? Perhaps in that moment in the tent. That man who could be changed.<br/>
‘You know you’re oddly capable of being charming at times.’ She said.<br/>
He scoffed harshly, hanging his armour on a wooden mannequin that stood within an alcove of the room.<br/>
‘No, I mean it... I like old men.’<br/>
Samson turned to eye her, shaking out a glove, his expression comically unimpressed.<br/>
‘Old.’ He said flatly.<br/>
‘Yes. Well, compared to me.’<br/>
He looked her up and down, squinting. ‘Maker, you’re not a teenager are you?’<br/>
She giggled, ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. I turn twenty-six this winter.’<br/>
He thought for a moment and shook his head, shrugging, ‘then maybe I am old.’<br/>
‘Old and charming.’ She offered.<br/>
He stepped round to the large gilt carved mirror, and observed himself. He rubbed his jaw a little and then frowned, ‘I haven’t a single grey hair!’<br/>
‘You’re right, it is positively jet black. Do you dye it?’ She kept her tone honest.<br/>
He looked at her reflected behind him in the mirror and grinned menacingly. ‘The Inquisitor is quite the joker, isn’t she?’<br/>
The words made her think of the inquisition, the longing to be back with her friends. Running around Skyhold with Sera, leaving old cheese in Cullen’s boots.<br/>
‘It’s been said.’<br/>
It was then that Trevalyan noticed the huge copper bath tub which been moved in front of the fireplace.<br/>
‘I must have been dead to the world, to not hear that come in.’ She nodded to it.<br/>
He caught sight of where she indicated and smirked, ‘I told them to be as quiet as possible.’ He went to the desk by the window and started to rifle through the papers there, apparently looking for something. He became distracted by one letter that she could see had minuscule etchings on it, and let himself sit down to read it.<br/>
‘I don’t think being the villain suits you, really. I think you’re playing the wrong part in the story.’ She said, moving herself back up the bed to lean against the headboard.<br/>
‘What part should I play?’ He replied absent-mindedly, still reading the note in his hand,  ‘I’m not exactly the knight-in-shining-armour, am I?’<br/>
‘No...’ she said thoughtfully. ‘They’re always so boring anyway. You could be the anti-hero. The man looking for vindication, caught between his morals and his duty.’<br/>
‘My morals?’ He suddenly looked up at her, a smirk curling his lip. She felt her stomach twist.<br/>
‘Yes.’ She was feeling braver by the second. ‘I do believe you have them.’<br/>
‘I do believe you’re wrong, by your standards anyway.’ He retorted, staring unblinking at her.<br/>
‘Then why are we here? Why have you been so kind to me?’<br/>
‘You think I’ve been kind to you?’ He cackled, glancing at the manacles around her wrists. ‘Maker... you’ve had your head turned.’<br/>
She didn’t respond to him but looked down at her hands instead. He wasn’t a kind man. Maker knows he had done some terrible things, unforgivable things, but Trevalyan knew his story, possibly more than Samson even realised. When she had discussed the man with Cullen, it was clear that he believed in him. Back then he had just been a name, it was before she had a face to match to it. It was true, once Cullen learned of his indiscretions while she was his captive, that might have changed his mind for good, but Cullen was a good judge of character. Cullen thought he could be saved.<br/>
‘So... thank you for the room.’ She said with a small smile. He had turned his back to her again and muttered distractedly.<br/>
‘It’s not yours, Daisy.’ He picked up a quill and scribbled something onto parchment. ‘It’s mine.’<br/>
She frowned at the back of his head. ‘Right. Well, it’s better than the dungeons.’ She cast around again, looking for something to say. ‘Will you be having a nice soak tonight then?’ She asked lightly. Samson turned in his chair, ‘You are very chatty, aren’t you?’ He didn’t smile as such, his mouth pricked slightly. ‘To think you were mute for so long, it must have been so very hard for you.’<br/>
She shrugged. ‘I’m just making conversation...’<br/>
‘Why? What makes you think I want to hear you?’<br/>
‘You would have gagged me otherwise.’ She said pointedly, staring straight at him. He relented slightly, she thought she saw a flicker of reproachfulness before he twisted back round again.<br/>
‘The bath is for you.’ He murmured at his papers. She smiled to herself, glancing over at him trying to concentrate.<br/>
‘Thank you.’<br/>
He twitched in frustration.<br/>
She lay silent for a while, listening to him scratching at the parchment. After some time, he stood and lit more torches, before moving to the fireplace and preparing the fire. She watched him closely. He was patient with the kindling, which did not light easily. He sat there for a while. When he finally drew back, there were the beginnings of a small fire which had room to grow.<br/>
‘That should warm the water.’ He said stiffly, stepping back.<br/>
‘Are you going to watch me again?’<br/>
He twisted around to look at her, before his lip curled, eyebrow raised.<br/>
‘I don’t see why not.’<br/>
‘You’re a pervert.’ She regarded him as he stared side-on at her. He had regained something, some colour perhaps. He didn’t look as grey as before.<br/>
‘You like it.’ He said squinting his eyes. ‘You’re the sort of girl that likes attention.’<br/>
She leant forward and moved down the bed so that she lay on her belly, her chains chinking against themselves. She looked up at him from under her eyelashes, and saw him tense slightly.<br/>
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Her mouth broke into another smile, but Samson’s didn’t. His brow was knotted as he surveyed her. Her face fell.<br/>
‘What’s wrong?’<br/>
‘Nothing.’ He walked over to her, pulling a key from his pocket. She sat up on her knees and stretched out her wrists for him to unlock her manacles, which he did, sliding them off of her. She sat there for a moment, rubbing her arms. They were black and blue by now. He held his hand out to her, she took it and slid off the bed. They stood with their bodies close to each other, Samson’s head bent down, hers tilted upward. They observed each other in silence. She noticed Samson’s eyes flick over her lips. He tentatively placed his hands flat on her upper thighs, and she jumped a little, somehow the gentleness of the touch was harder to prepare for. He slid his palms upwards, taking her vest in his fingers. She obediently put her arms above her head and allowed him to remove the thin material. He dropped it on the floor next to them. Trevalyan felt hot all over, she even felt the tightness in her chest, and the twirling sensation that started behind her naval and wriggled down lower and lower. Blood rushed to her most imitate areas. She closed her eyes and let her head rest back, waiting for him to touch her again, to kiss her. All the while she couldn’t help but shake. She had not expected to become absolutely overcome. Genuinely overcome. Body betrayed... but nothing happened.<br/>
‘Should be warming up now.’ He said, bringing her back to herself. He gave her the faintest of smirks and crossed the room back to his desk. ‘Thanks...’ she whispered, watching him go. Shaking herself a little, covering her breasts with her arms, and trying to not appear too dejected, she moved to the bath and stepped one foot inside. She sat down quickly, facing him. She sunk down under the water and kept her eyes open, watching the surface ripple for a while and then become still. She wondered what would become of her in this place. She couldn’t help but think that this could not endure, that the inquisition would not rest, they would come for her. What would become of Samson in the fight that ensued? Why did she suddenly care so much...<br/>
She emerged from the water to see him turned in his chair, watching her. She toyed with mocking him about his concern for her, but thought better of it.<br/>
‘I thought you had escaped today... at the river.’ He said - his concern for her had been the exact thing on his mind.<br/>
‘That would not have been easy.’ She said pushing her hair back. Tilting her head, she leant forward slightly, ‘you seemed very angry with me afterwards.’<br/>
‘I was angry with myself.’<br/>
She frowned at him. Trevelyan didn’t know what he meant, but he didn’t seem like he wanted to get into it, in fact he appeared to grow more frustrated the longer they lingered on the subject. She watched him clench his fist and put it to his mouth for a moment.<br/>
‘I won’t be tricked by you.’ Muttered Samson.<br/>
‘Tricked? I’m not trying to trick you.’<br/>
‘You would have me believe... that you are happy with this arrangement?’<br/>
‘Of course I’m not happy!’ She burst, suddenly enraged. ‘You think I seem happy?’<br/>
‘Then you intend to trick me. To lull me into a false sense of security and then make your escape from here.’ He leant forward in his chair, spitting with the effort of his speech.<br/>
‘I’m a prisoner.’ She said shaking her head incredulously.<br/>
‘Yes...’ he admitted, ‘and unless I kill you, you will always try to run.’ He stopped and stared at her. Trevalyan closed her eyes. It was true, she thought. And yet, there was some relief in his presence. She supposed that something of the old Samson still lived on, or was good enough to reach her, to touch her heart, or at least to make her feel for him. That came so easily to her.<br/>
‘Why don’t you come here?’ She asked quietly. He shot her a look, narrowing his gaze, but she was expressionless and maintained it. Another few seconds passed, and then he stood. Samson moved towards her and bent down by the bath tub, leaning his arms on the rim. She put her face near his. Close up, she could see his eyes like this, they were so bloodshot, the whites almost completely eclipsed by red. She thought she saw the crystals glint behind them. She twisted a little and put her hand up to his face. He flinched, like a dog that had learnt to fear human touch.<br/>
‘I don’t know why... but I see you.’ She said quietly. ‘I... see you.’ The incredible thing was that she meant it. ‘I believe there is still a man behind the red.’<br/>
For a moment she thought he would retaliate.<br/>
‘You don’t know me.’ He growled.<br/>
‘I know.’<br/>
‘I have done... terrible things to you.’<br/>
‘Yes...’ she looked down into the water.<br/>
‘And I enjoyed it.’<br/>
Trevalyan shot back at him. ‘I don’t think you did. I think you wanted for something more... you’ve just forgotten how to get it.’<br/>
He shook his head. ‘It’s too late... I’m a monster now.’<br/>
‘Perhaps...’ her eyes slid back to his which were fixated on the glistening skin of her shoulder.<br/>
‘Why didn’t you do it?’ He said. ‘Why didn’t you kill me, in the tent?’<br/>
She didn’t know what to say. She blinked at him.<br/>
‘You will die, Samson. I don’t doubt that. This war will take your life. But I decided that it wouldn’t be me that took it. It would not be by my hand.’<br/>
He puffed a little, a sardonic expression emerging across his face but then paused and looked up and out of the window ahead of him.<br/>
‘You’re probably right.’<br/>
There was silence for a while.<br/>
‘I have obsessed over you, Inquisitor.’ He breathed back, still gazing up at the clear night. ‘I have been... obsessed.’<br/>
She bit her lip. It was like looking into the jaws of a lion. Her choice now would decide whether she was devoured or not.<br/>
‘I know.’<br/>
He paused and then, with his sharp nostrils flaring, leant in to kiss her, placing his hand at the back of her head. They moved their mouths slowly, without rushing, breathing each other in. She was dimly aware of Samson’s other hand trailing just above the water by her stomach. They continued like this, sometimes pressing their lips, sometimes he encouraged her mouth open with his tongue. But he was always gentle. It was somehow more tender than she had ever felt, a young kind of love. She felt the trepidation in him though, like he was trying to keep a butterfly in his hands. Trevelyan cupping his jaw until he switched his grip from the back of her neck to interlace his with her fingers. She then jolted slightly, glancing down at herself. Samson had put his hand under the the surface and deftly touched her. Samson pressed onto the smooth skin of her stomach, and then traced the barrier of soft hair that began lower, nearer to his goal. She gasped as his long middle finger slid easily between her delicate folds. Her eyes widened and she pushed back slightly against the tub, her legs tensing. He regained her attention by squeezing her hand hard. She looked back into his eyes, her eyelids were becoming heavy, the effort of pleasure knotted in her brow. Samson’s face was full of fascination, watching her every breath, the way she placed her other hand up onto the rim  of the bath and gripped it every time his finger traced her opening. It was so quiet in the room, the only sounds were of the slowly lapping water and the inquisitor’s little sighs. After taking time to move with her body, locating her opening, Samson flexed his finger, sliding inside her. She moaned aloud, and he kissed her again, harder this time, needing to devour the sound that came from her.<br/>
‘Maker...’ he whispered as she stifled herself into the kiss. She let go of the bath and laid her hand on top of his under the water, as he slid a second finger into her. She dug her nails into him. Wincing slightly as he stretched her.<br/>
‘Daisy...’ Samson smiled wolfishly. She was reduced to irresistible blushes, suddenly frowning at his enjoyment, breathing heavily. She was starting to regret her decision. The man grinned wider before removing his two fingers, changing his position and then entering again. She screwed up her face in pain and sank her nails even harder into his skin, but Samson didn’t flinch, he didn’t seem to feel it.<br/>
‘Almost.’ He muttered devilishly into her ear. She wrenched her other hand out of his grasp and it joined her right, hanging on to his which had started to flex again inside her. She couldn’t remove him. His fingers were long enough to easily press against that warm button inside of her. Her orgasm built, making her feel like a puppet on the end of Samson’s arm, he encouraged her hips to raise nearly out of the water. She looked at him pleadingly as her moaning increased in volume and desperation. He pressed hard and she suddenly bucked and jolted, cresting absolute, melting back into the water, stroking his hand. In those moments she could be a slave, she could be his, she would do anything for him. Sweet, liquid gratitude.<br/>
‘Oh...’ her eyes rolled back.<br/>
As the feeling subsided, Samson withdrew his arm from the water. Trevelyan started to feel the pain from his intrusion, still wracked with aftershocks. She looked up to see him stood, removing his clothes by the bed. As he got down to his breeches, she saw the outline of his erect member, straining against the material, the length of which when pushed up almost met with his naval. It was surrounded by a damp oval where he had leaked. He sucked on the fingers that had used, doing so without noticing her. He then glanced in her direction. She felt herself twist inside.<br/>
‘Are you all right?’ He said, sliding onto the bed.<br/>
‘You hurt me.’ She said quietly after a moment.<br/>
‘Was that all?’ He leant forward, earnest,  wanting to know.<br/>
‘No...’ she admitted a little timidly, looking around the room. He raised an eyebrow and it made her smile.<br/>
‘Love hurts.’ He said solemnly. She thought he joked so she smiled wide, but soon stopped when all he did was peer at her.<br/>
‘Uh huh...’ she murmured.<br/>
He stared, demanding her to focus on him alone. ‘I’m afraid it might hurt, Daisy. But that won’t be all. That won’t ever be all you feel.’ She loved it when he spoke like this. Aside from calling her that ridiculous pet-name, she knew when his voice went down low, husky, and he sounded measured, he came out with words that were good, kind. Not only this, but it seemed to her that this side of him was true to his thoughts. The torturous, cackling madman was something that Corypheus has inspired within him. It did not belong.<br/>
Her chest started to rise and fall, heart fluttering. He put his index finger to the bed next to him and tilted his head to the side. She tentatively padded over.<br/>
‘So... we’re going to do this?’<br/>
‘You’re shy now?’ He said, shaking his head with a smile.<br/>
‘I’m not shy...’<br/>
‘Then you’re scared. You look like you’re walking to your demise.’<br/>
‘Please... you’re nothing to be scared of.’<br/>
‘I can’t help but think you’re not falling over yourself to lay with me, that’s all.’<br/>
‘Well... you are the enemy.’ She purred, reaching the first bed post and wrapping her arm around it.<br/>
‘Yes...’ he hissed, smirking. ‘And you’re mine.’<br/>
‘And you’re so old.’ Her eyes sparkled.<br/>
He threw his head back and laughed loudly, showing his pointed teeth. He pushed his dark hair off of his forehead.<br/>
‘Fucking hell... all right yes, I’m old.’ He looked at her maliciously. ‘I’m an old man... And I want you.’<br/>
‘I bet.’<br/>
Samson looked at her quizzically for a few seconds, his mouth half open, crooked from laughing - she remained expressionless. Slowly, his face dropped. He took a deep breath.<br/>
‘I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you.’ He leant forward meaningfully. Trevalyan rested her head against the bed post, listening carefully to him.<br/>
‘From when I first saw you in the snow.’<br/>
‘And you shot me with an arrow.’ She added, squinting at him.<br/>
‘I didn’t fire that arrow to kill you. I wanted... only to keep you.’<br/>
‘To keep me in chains.’<br/>
He didn’t speak, he gave the slightest shake of his head.<br/>
‘Well, you got what you wanted.’<br/>
‘Not completely.’<br/>
‘No?’<br/>
‘Despite my... primitive treatment of you originally, Daisy, I realised along the way that the thing I wanted most was for you to want me...’<br/>
‘Yes... I knew it.’<br/>
‘Nobody likes a know-it-all.’<br/>
‘Hm. I certainly don’t claim to know everything, or anything in fact. Your intentions for me were quite clear from the beginning.’<br/>
‘You’re incredible, aren’t you?’<br/>
She grinned. He did make her feel something, especially when he appeared so honest.<br/>
‘General Samson...’ she cooed as she rounded the bedside, ‘are you in love?’<br/>
In their exchange, they challenged each other. Samson looked over her shoulder for a second, as if he saw something there. She half turned to see, when he suddenly grabbed her arm. She let out a tiny squeal of surprise and tried to wrench away but he was too fast, too strong. He pulled her up onto the bed and over his lap, her towel falling to the ground. Snatching her other wrist, he forced her to straddle him.<br/>
‘Can’t believe you fell for that one, Daisy.’ He chuckled. She tried to shake him off, but he held her with a tight grip. ‘No...’ he whispered warningly.<br/>
She stopped struggling, opening out her hands in surrender. Her wrists were so sore from the constant shackles, it was quite unbearable. He loosened his hold, and then after a few seconds let her go.<br/>
‘Bastard...’ she said rubbing her wrists, but she didn’t get up.<br/>
Samson shifted slightly. Trevaylan realised that she sat directly over his shaft. The length of which far over-stretched her own intimate space and lay flat against his stomach. She noticed a single pulsating vein ran just to the side of the thick central muscle. He watched her glance down and tensed.<br/>
‘Why “Daisy”?’ She said abruptly, crossing her arms over her chest and looking up.<br/>
He grinned wide and rolled his eyes. ‘Because you look like one.’<br/>
‘How so?’<br/>
‘You’re a little ray of sunshine.’<br/>
She squinted at him, raising an eyebrow.<br/>
‘Sounds better than saying I called you that because I knew you’d hate it.’<br/>
‘That sounds more like the truth.’ She nodded knowingly. ‘The irony being that you knew that. And you know I’m no Daisy.’<br/>
‘It’s stuck. You’ve become that now.’<br/>
‘Really...’<br/>
Samson’s smile faltered as he nodded. He put his hand up and for a moment she expected him to touch her breast, but instead he went to her wound on her shoulder, and then up to her face.<br/>
‘I think I can handle that...’ she purred, touching his hand. ‘Do you know my name? My real name?’<br/>
He grinned. He knew her name, he had read it in a thousand correspondences. It had run through his mind like a spirit so many times. He had said it to himself in the lonely night, imagining her into reality, even before he had ever seen her in the flesh.<br/>
‘Of course I do. Doesn’t mean I’ll call you that though.’ He paused, ‘Do you know mine?’<br/>
‘Samson?’<br/>
‘My first, silly girl.’<br/>
She nodded. ‘It’s Raleigh.’<br/>
Samson looked misty eyed as if recalling a distant memory, ‘I haven’t heard it in so long. No one ever called me by it.’<br/>
‘I like it.’<br/>
He swelled slightly. He wanted to cement this before it became too real. There were very sharp feelings coming into play. It couldn’t endure.<br/>
‘Come here.’ He said. She leant forward and placed her hands on his chest. He was so pale, her fingers looked golden spread out on top of him.  He slid himself back and Trevalyan raised herself up on her knees, allowing him to manoeuvre himself upright. They kept their eyes locked on each other. She felt the round bulb-tip of his erection press against her opening. The feeling made her hair stand on end. Her skin flushed all over. She knew he saw it. She saw his gaze lingering on her breasts. He let her use his hands to steady herself above him. It was silent in the room again save for the sound of their gentle breath. The moment had finally arrived for them both. Trevalyan let herself sink, with nowhere else for Samson to go, his tip began to break her apart very gently. She exhaled, concentrating hard on keeping herself steady, and continued to take him. The feeling of slowly being stretched, filled up from within, was blissful.<br/>
Samson’s mouth opened as he watched her push herself down onto his prick. He pulsated when she winced, when she sighed.<br/>
‘Oh, Daisy...’ he whispered as she became his.<br/>
She blushed furiously. He wondered whether she had ever done this before.<br/>
She finally settled, wrapped around tightly, gripping his hands, breathless from the effort of keeping him inside her. The muscles in her thighs quaked, and she started to lift herself up again. ‘Gently...’ he had said to her, which made her eyes roll back. After a few tentative strokes they were in a perfect rhythm with each other. He kept holding her hands until he felt she no longer needed him. She finally let go and he immediately took the opportunity to slide his around her perfect behind. She put her arms up and hooked her fingers into her silvery hair, rocking back, her body curving, serpent-like. Trevalyan felt the pain completely subside to heady pleasure, a wave that started rolling up her thighs, her stomach. When she exhaled, it was long and drawn out. Everything becoming blindingly bright.<br/>
He sat up to meet her, kissing her hard. She smiled as he licked at her, desperate for her. ‘Gently...’ she whispered breathlessly.<br/>
She felt him pause in the crook of her neck, and smile. ‘Tainting me...’ he said, Trevelyan feeling his hot breath, ‘brave girl...’ and the next moment he had lifted her, twisted, and dropped her back down onto the bed.<br/>
She lay beneath him, her hair pooling around her head. He knelt in front of her, gripping her muscular legs which he parted. The sight of her little pink slit so close to his erection made his mouth fill with saliva. He wanted to use this vantage point, he wanted to watch himself enter her more than anything.<br/>
‘Are you ok?’ He asked her, his eyes heavy with lust, blood rushing away from his brain. He felt almost drunk from looking at her.<br/>
She nodded. He tugged her towards him a little, and pushed his erection down, watching as first the tip opened her up, then moved the length of himself inside her. She gripped the sheets and groaned, her chest raising up in protest.<br/>
‘Please...’ she panted.<br/>
‘Shhh..’ Samson put his finger up to his lips as he began to slowly pump her. She looked outraged that he silenced her, but found she could hardly focus as her insides started to melt. Samson placed a hand on her lower abdomen, just so he could feel his member expand the space inside. He had dreamed of this. He had dreamt of her pliant underneath him, helpless to the irresistible waves of ecstasy that he was responsible for. Her liquid silk covered him entirely. He had her.<br/>
‘Raleigh...’ she reached her hand up, and he leant forward for her, letting her touch his face, run her hand through his hair.<br/>
‘Does it hurt?’ He breathed, feeling her kiss his bottom lip. Seeing stars. Hardly in control of his own mouth, ‘Tell me it hurts...’<br/>
He eyed her as she laid back again. She smiled devilishly. Fine. He started to pick up the pace, harder now but still kind to her, not quite connecting with her, but almost there. She started to wince, clutching at him again, moaning louder. He put his thumb to her lips and she took it in her mouth. Her cool mouth. Sucking harder with each stroke, her tongue twirling around it. The most arousing image that he had ever seen, or ever pictured in his imagination. She started to protest as he progressed to fucking her, he watched as her eyes started to water. She had moved her hands to his shoulders where she started to scratch at him. He growled and forced her arms back onto the bed, pinning her. She came loudly at that point, the feeling of helplessness seemingly pushing her over the edge. He felt her sweet cunt clench around him. He gritted his teeth, wanting to draw it out. He kept edging himself. It was easy to do. Harder to stop. He wanted to be as close as he could be to the body beneath him. Laying on top of her, leaning into his grip on her wrists, he kissed her deeply, and she kissed back. Their bodies eclipsed any light between. Breathing. He felt a little bucking from her, concern, but he needed to. She hooked her legs around him and tensed but the pure desire to finish inside her was too great, he didn’t care about the consequences. Samson pulsed and exploded deep inside Trevalyan, groaning into her neck. All the undeniable desires that had wracked him for so long were injected straight into the inquisitor. He looked up, stroking her hair off of her face, she kept her eyes closed, her breathing ragged. Nostrils flaring. He kissed her cheek. She turned her head.<br/>
After a while laying with her, wilting out of her, he got up off and proceeded to collapse on the other side of the bed, his head spinning.<br/>
He listened to her breathing for a time, feeling her twitch every now and then. A thought went through his head and he obeyed it, putting his hand on her stomach.<br/>
‘You’re a dream, Inquisitor.’<br/>
She opened her eyes and looked at him, flushed, her hair sticking up in places. She managed a small smile before closing her eyes again.</p>
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